


Billy Hargrove Hates Nancy Wheeler

by deadwife



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, POV Nancy Wheeler, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Secret Relationship, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler Friendship, billy hargrove is a jealous boyfriend, nancy wheeler is kind of a brat, steve and nancy try to be friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadwife/pseuds/deadwife
Summary: Billy Hargrove Hates Nancy Wheeler.OrSteve gets in a car accident, and nobody understands why Billy Hargrove is in the waiting room with them.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 33
Kudos: 753





	Billy Hargrove Hates Nancy Wheeler

**Author's Note:**

> I don't understand how this fic happened. I was having serious writer's block with my other story, so instead, I wrote this corny piece of shit because I honestly love the trope of Billy absolutely despising Nancy Wheeler.
> 
> So, just a little heads up. I have no knowledge of anything medical. I also have no idea how American hospitals function. I also wrote this over the weekend with very little editing or actual thought... So basically this fic is a long, rambling mess of inaccurate info and grammatical errors (probably).
> 
> But I figured some of yall might enjoy it, so I hope you do!

On a balmy Tuesday evening in May, Nancy Wheeler gets a telephone call.

“Nancy?” It’s Hopper, and her stomach drops. “Steve’s in the hospital. He was in an accident.”

Nancy clatters the dishes back into the sink and sprints out the door with her hands still dripping with suds. By the time she gets to emergency, she’s worked herself into tears, and Hopper greets her with an uncharacteristic embrace.

“T-boned,” he informs her. “Still waiting to hear about his condition. I wasn’t sure who to call—I couldn’t get a hold of his parents. There was no answer at their house.”

“They’re on vacation,” Nancy says absently. “I’m sure there’s a number somewhere at the house. I can go—“ She falters, realizing she doesn’t want to leave the hospital.

“I’ll go,” he said. “I called the Hendersons, and Joyce—I figured they’d want to know. I can wait till the others get here, if you don’t want to be here alone.”

Nancy nods, throat thick. “Is Jonathan--?”

“He’s on the way.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Reluctantly, they sit in the peeling vinyl waiting chairs.

“What about the other driver?” Nancy asks, after a few moments of silence.

“Minor injuries. He’s fine. Goddamn distracted drivers,” Hopper mutters. “Ran through a red light. Can you believe it?” He shakes his head in disgust.

Hop asks her a few preliminary questions—How’s school? Parents doing alright? Good, good, Nancy says, not really in the mood to talk. Politely, she asks after El, even though she hears enough about El through Mike. She’s not really sure what to say, because her and Hopper don’t _know_ each other, really, not well enough to be comfortable alone together like this. Not under these circumstances.

The chair squeaks as she shifts uncomfortably, and the two of them drift into silence. It feels wrong to be sitting like this, to be doing nothing while Steve could be dying just a few rooms over. In a different way, it feels wrong to be here _at all_ , to be Steve’s person in the hospital waiting room like this, like she’s still his girlfriend, like she’s still an integral part of his life.

She _is_ still part of his life—sort of. She’d promised to help him study for final exams his spring, and they still catch up at Joyce’s monthly potluck or when they’re picking up the kids. It had taken some time, initially, before it wasn’t weird to be around him. It’s not like they hadn’t _wanted_ to stay friends—but Steve had obviously still loved her, and Nancy had felt an unbearable guilt every time she saw it in his eyes. But gradually over the last several months, he stopped looking at her like he was longing for her, and in turn, Nancy didn’t feel so guilty about the whole thing. They built their relationship back up, and it’s not close to what it used to be, but it’s something new, something different. They’re friends, maybe not the best of friends and maybe they never _can_ be, but they have _something_.

He had given Nancy his good graces to be with Jonathan. It had broken her heart a little, almost wished he had been furious, wished he hated her. But after everything had gone down last fall, when they finally, officially broke up, he’d looked at her with wounded, kind eyes and told her he just wanted her to be happy.

“I’ll be okay,” Steve had said. His face was still swollen and discolored from protecting the kids from Billy Hargrove, and it was painful to look at him. “I always sort of knew that you guys were—like, soul mates or whatever.” Steve sort of laughed, a weak, breathy thing meant to be reassuring and light.

She tried to tell him how much he meant to her, how much he would _always_ mean to her, but he stopped her. _I know, Nance._

And he forgave her, just like that. Just like how, apparently he had forgiven Billy Hargrove after Max made him apologize for everything. Nancy didn’t think Billy deserved to be forgiven, remembering the bruises on Steve’s face, the frightened look on the kids’ faces at the mention of his name. But Steve’s forgiving nature is one of the things she loves about him—even if it makes her worry, sometimes. But if it wasn’t the case, she knows she wouldn’t still be his friend. She’s grateful for it every day.

But despite all that, the feeling that she _doesn’t deserve to be here_ is heavy in her chest. She wasn’t his _other_ anymore, and she’s barely sure she qualifies as his friend anymore. They’re part of each other lives, but the last time she had really _spoken_ to Steve besides a casual greeting in the school hall was almost two weeks ago now, at Jonathan’s, when Steve had dropped in while picking up Dustin and the others. While the kids finished up their game, Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan sat around the living room and just talked.

Steve had seemed happy, his energy high and his eyes bright, like the Steve she had first fallen for. She had been suspecting he was seeing someone new for a while, and she was validated at the sight of a hickey just below the collar of his shirt.

“Is that a _hickey_?” She’d teased.

“I don’t know,” he’d said, but he’d grinned and hadn’t said anything else. She hadn’t pressed press, because she knew he probably didn’t want to talk about his love life with _them_ , and she understood that.

She understands that she would probably never be his _friend_. Not really. They don’t _talk_ , really talk like how they used to, like how friends are supposed to. The only things they talk about are academics and the kids. Nancy has no idea what girl he’s been seeing, has no idea if he’s got a job lined up for the summer, doesn’t even know who he hangs out with these days. Some friend she is—and here she sat, in the hospital waiting room as the first person Hopper called aside from his parents.

She didn’t deserve to be here, but there is no one else, she realized. Steve has no one else.

A fresh wave of nausea and guilt washes over her, and she hugs herself tight.

Soon, everybody else arrives. A very frantic Dustin appears, who hurries over to Hopper to demand information, along with Mrs. Henderson and Lucas. When the Byers’ arrive, El and Mike along with them (and Nancy feels a little pang of guilt for not bringing Mike with her), Jonathan sits at Nancy’s side and clutches her hand. Finally, Max appears too, along with—to Nancy’s astonishment— _Billy Hargrove._

She’s impressed he came in with Max at all—she never would have expected that kind of respect from _him_. They meet eyes for a brief moment, but Nancy averts her gaze quickly at the callousness she finds there.

She didn’t know what she expected, though.

The thing is, Billy Hargrove _hates_ Nancy Wheeler, and she’s not entirely sure why.

It’s no secret. He doesn’t try to hide it. He looks at her openly with contempt, talks loud when he calls her things like _the frigid bitch_ and _the ice queen_. Not that they’re in each other’s company very often at all. But they go to the same school and it’s kind of hard to not see each other all the time, hard not to pass each other in the halls. Most of the time, he just plainly ignores her, and Nancy is completely okay with that. But whenever they’re at the forefront of each other’s attention, if looks could kill then Nancy long be in her grave. And she knows he’s not all talk—the memory of Steve’s face that November still makes her stomach twist.

So, it’s safe to say that Nancy Wheeler doesn’t like Billy Hargrove, either. But judging from the raw hostility he directs at her every chance he gets, she doesn’t think she hates him as much as he hates her. She doesn’t think she hates _anyone_ as much as Billy hates her. And she doesn’t really get it because—what the hell did she ever do to him? She clearly has more cause for hostility. He smashed in her ex-boyfriend’s (boyfriend at the time) face, threatened one of her little brother’s best friends and frightened the life out of the rest of them. They’re all _terrified_ of him. Not to mention, Billy flirts with her mom _all_ the time. Right in front of Nancy. Like he’s trying to piss her off. The worst part is that her mom totally eats it up, even blushes whenever he gets brought up in conversation, no matter how much Nancy tells her that Billy Hargrove is _a creep_.

She’d tried not to dwell on it. Her fellow students had a tendency to hate her—whether it was because they thought she was simply a snob or a whore, whether it was because she had broken up with Steve, or because he had dragged him from his throne—people didn’t like her, and clearly Billy Hargrove had picked up on the mob mentality and ran with it. But still, she had always felt his hatred was too pointed, too purposeful, especially for someone so new to Hawkins.

But she has always refused to let him bother her, and so he _won’t_ bother her now. She _refuses_ to let his bullshit make this evening any worse than it already is.

Everybody asks for news upon their arrival, and of course, there isn’t any.

“We’re waiting to know,” is all Hopper says.

“Is he gonna _die_?” Dustin cries, bordering on hysterics. It would almost be funny.

“We don’t know enough to be sure of anything,” Hop says placidly.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Joyce says to Dustin, but she glances a little desperately to Hopper.

“Do you know what kind of injuries he has?” Billy pipes in, looking more alert than Nancy is used to. Everybody looks at him, surprised to even _see_ him here. It’s surprising that he came in with Max at all, let alone that he would be interested in Steve’s wellbeing. Not like he showed much interest in it before, Nancy chides internally.

“No idea, kid. I didn’t get a look at him. I imagine we’ll know more soon.”

Billy crosses his arms over his chest. He looks pale, wild, almost shell-shocked. Nancy wonders vaguely if he’s on drugs.

“Whoever did this—deserves to die!” Says Dustin.

“Woah,” Jonathan says. “Dustin, it was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident that might _kill Steve,”_ Mike says.

“He’s not gonna die.” Says Will. “Right?” He looks around at the adults for reassurance.

“I’m sure he’ll be just fine, sweetie,” Joyce touches Will’s shoulder, reaches for Dustin, too. She looks to Hooper. “Where are his parents?”

“Apparently they’re on vacation. I don’t know where to reach them. Actually, I need to swing by his house and try to find a number. Does anyone have a spare key or anything? …. Nancy?”

“I don’t have one anymore,” she says. She bites her lip.

“Does anyone?” Hopper looks around a little desperately.

“There’s a spare under the mat at the back door,” Billy says after a moment of silence.

Everybody looks at him.

“I was with him one time he got locked out,” he says defensively, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Besides, I’m sure one of you little twerps could climb through one of his windows. He doesn’t exactly have top security.” Billy speaks like he’s angry to even be there, to even have to talk, like he hates them all. And it’s so typical that Nancy almost rolls her eyes, but instead she just feels like sobbing.

“The kids aren’t going. I’ll look for the spare key. I’ll be back in a little while. Thanks, Hargrove.”

Hopper places a comforting hand on Nancy’s shoulder, and does the same for El, before he sets off.

Once he’s gone, an unsettled silence falls on the group. The kids are unnaturally quiet. They all look at each other, searching for reassurance but finding only their own uncertainty looking back. They all sit together, all except Billy, who stands a little too far away from them. He looks out of place, standing apart from their group yet undeniably _with_ them. He must know he doesn’t belong, she thinks.

“I can’t believe this. Only yesterday I was in his car, and now—now—“ Dustin starts.

“Stop talking like he’s dead—he’s not,” Lucas says.

“You don’t know, he could be for all we know,” Mike says.

“Guys, just shut up,” Max snaps. “Just stop talking. You’re making it worse.”

Nancy is grateful for Max’s bluntness.

“How are you, sweetie?” Joyce turns to Nancy.

Nancy nods, a little self-conscious at the sudden attention to her. Jonathan rubs her shoulder. Billy is watching her icily. She doesn’t waste her time looking back at him—she doesn’t have the energy to be pissed at Billy Hargrove right now, or to wonder what the hell he’s even doing here.

“Fine. I mean, you know.”

“Where was he going?” Dustin wonders aloud. “He said he was staying home tonight.” He looks around at the gang, eyes wide and damp.

“We don’t know,” Nancy says. She looks to Jonathan, who just shrugs, and then to Billy. He’s not looking at them.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Max says.

“No,” Joyce says, almost to herself.

They fall into an unsettled silence. The kids fidget restlessly, tapping their feet and swinging their knees. Joyce absently plays with Will’s hair. Jonathan presses his knee against Nancy’s. They don’t speak but they share looks, communicating wordlessly in a way she could any do with Jonathan.

Nancy isn’t sure how much time has passed, but a doctor in a white coat is approaching them. Nancy is the first to stand, while the others gradually rise to assemble behind her.

“Are you all here for Mr. Harrington?”

“We are,” Nancy says.

“Is there a family member present?”

“No,” Joyce says from behind her. “But we’re like his family.”

The doctor eyes all of the children, eyebrows slightly raised, and nods.

“Very well. Mr. Harrington has lost a lot of blood, but we’ve managed to stop the bleeding. He’s sustained a broken arm and a couple of broken ribs. However, he’s also sustained some head injuries—we can’t determine the severity as of yet, because he’s still unconscious.”

“Head injuries?” Billy asks. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Unconscious, like he’s in a coma?” Dustin asks.

The doctor looks back and forth between the two of them. “He’s had a pretty severe hit to the head. There’s no sign of hemorrhage or fracture, however the side-effects of the injury won’t be clear until he wakes up. Possibly a coma. But on the other hand, he could wake up in five minutes. I’m afraid we don’t know.”

“So we just… wait?” Nancy asks.

“I’m afraid so.” The doctor smiles sympathetically at Nancy.

“Can we see him?” Dustin asks.

“Not quite yet,” the doctor says. “Visiting hours are nine to twelve, and four to seven. You can come back tomorrow and see him.”

“We’re not allowed in to see him?” Nancy asks, bewildered.

“Only family, unfortunately. It’s our policy, I’m sorry.”

“His family isn’t here.”

“We’re closer than his—“

“There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “You’ll have to wait until visiting hours tomorrow.”

With that, she wishes them a good evening and withdraws down the white corridor. Nancy takes a steadying breath and turns to look at everyone. They look just as unsettled as she feels.

Nancy feels like stomping her foot, like throwing something, like screaming at the top of her lungs. “That is such bullshit,” is what she says instead. Jonathan squeezes her shoulder.

“So… what do we do now, then?” Mike asks. El is clutching his hand. She looks worried, but she’s looking beyond Nancy.

“We just wait,” Joyce says.

“But, we can’t all just stay here, right?” Mike says after a beat.

“We can’t _leave_!” Says Dustin.

“But why wait around here? We can’t even see him! Besides, it’s so depressing here and there’s nothing to do.”

“Mike’s kind of got a point,” says Lucas, who looks quickly to Max as if for reassurance. “Why stay here when we could just go home? We’re waiting around either way.”

“You guys are being so insensitive!” Max huffs.

“There’s no need for us _all_ to be here,” says Mike.

“Guys,” Joyce pipes in. “Don’t argue, please. Listen, those of you who want to stay can stay, as long as your parents say it’s okay. You can call them now. I can take home anyone who doesn’t feel like staying. Mike’s right, there’s no need for every single one of us to stay, especially on a school night. Every agree with that?”

Everyone nods in agreement.

“I’m staying,” Dustin says.

“Me too.” Max glances at Billy.

“We’re staying,” Jonathan says.

Will looks around at everyone uncertainly. “Um.”

“No pressure, sweetie. You can come with me or stay with Jonathan.”

“I’ll stay.”

Lucas is looking at Max. “I mean, I guess I’ll stay too. For a little while.

Mike sighs. “Fine. I guess I’ll stay too.” He looks at Nancy. Nancy gives him a grateful little smile.

Nobody asks Billy, and he doesn’t offer his opinion.

Shortly after, Hopper reappears.

They fill him in on what the doctor said. Hopper just nods solemnly.

“Did you call his parents?” Joyce asks.

“Yeah. Key was right where you said,” he looks at Billy. “I called the Harringtons at their hotel. They’re in Australia, so it’s gonna be a long way home. They’re trying to book a flight tonight. They’ll hopefully be here tomorrow night or the next morning.”

“Jeez,” Mrs. Henderson says. “That’s a long time to wait to see your son.”

“At least we’re all here,” Dustin says.

They fall back into an uneasy silence, as everybody sinks back into their uncomfortable chairs and just… _waits_.

The kids talk in hushed, careful whispers, and the adults tilt their heads back and close their eyes. Nancy watches them—because there’s really not much else to do besides read outdated home furnishing magazines. Will and Dustin talk quiet with one another, and Lucas and Max are smiling about something, even though Max keeps glancing at Billy. She turns her gaze to Mike and El—and even though her brother is a little twerp, she has to admit that he’s actually pretty sweet with El. He’s teaching her how to do paddy-cake, and El smiles softly. Nancy can tell she’s on edge, maybe even more so than everybody. El’s never liked hospitals, and sometimes Nancy gets the sense that she can just _feel_ what everybody around her is feeling.

Joyce and Hopper sit together for a while, leaning in close and whispering to each other. Jonathan nudges Nancy and nods over at them—a little inside joke (or maybe not that inside) that Hopper and Joyce are madly in love and both too stubborn to admit it.

At some point, Hopper and Joyce offer to get everybody coffee. Nancy is grateful for it, even though it ends up tasting like water. She fills a quarter of her cup with creamers and sugar packets. Jonathan laughs at her.

Billy Hargrove has finally sat down, on the opposite end of the waiting room. Far enough to show that he doesn’t belong with them, close enough to stay in the loop with everything that’s going on. Every now and again, Nancy catches Max glancing at him, like she’s worried. Nancy wonders if Billy’s only here to supervise Max—she’d heard the Hargrove-Mayfield parents were strict. It’s the only explanation for his presence, and definitely explains why he seems so _on edge_. He’s impatient to get out of here because he doesn’t _want_ to be here—it has nothing to do with Steve. He isn’t even _friends_ with Steve, not even acquaintances, as far as Nancy knows. She knows he and Steve had come to some kind of truce, and were perhaps on friendlier terms than before, but that’s hardly saying much. She sees Steve almost every day in school, and he never speaks of Billy, and she never sees them together unless its on the basketball court. Whenever she has seen them talk, it seems minimal, cordial, like any classmates.

The only time she can vividly recall seeing them together was a day in school several months ago, maybe in February. She’d walked alone down the halls and had come across Steve, standing in idle conversation with Tommy H and Billy Hargrove. Nancy had smiled tightly at Steve—still in that awkward phase after their breakup, when the pain was still fresh and they couldn’t really be friends. Nancy thinks during that time, Steve might have been spending more time with his old friends, maybe just for something to do without all his time spent with Nancy. Still, it struck her a little bit, almost as if it hurt her to see him with the likes of Tommy and Billy.

“Oh hey, it’s Wheeler,” Tommy had quipped, grin stupid and cocky. “I thought I could smell something! Ever thought about closing your legs for a change?”

Nancy’s face had burned, and her eyes stung with the vulgarity of it, the humiliation of it. A few people nearby had tittered at the insult. She’d been ready to just walk off and ignore them all, when Steve had sprung into Tommy’s space. Nancy couldn’t see his face, but she could sense his fury by the stiffness in his shoulders.

“What the fuck did you just say to her?”

Tommy’s eyes had gone wide, his face pink behind the freckles. “Dude—she fuckin’ cheated on you with that fag Byers, why are you siding with _her_?”

“Yeah, and I’d still pick her any day over you. So what does that say about you, Tommy?” Steve had given Tommy, who looked too flabbergasted to react, a threatening little shove, and had turned towards Nancy with an inviting arm. “C’mon, Nance.”

She’d still felt embarrassed despite the satisfaction of seeing Tommy blubber, and had felt like maybe she didn’t deserve Steve’s loyalty. She wasn’t the only one, either. When she looked at Billy Hargrove, who’d been oddly quiet throughout the whole encounter, she was almost startled by the _venom_ she found there. It had been like the glint of a swiveling blade, cold and sharp and menacing. Nancy had felt shaken, like his gaze had _actually_ pierced her. She wasn’t sure _anyone_ had given her such a look. She’d ultimately ignored him and left with Steve’s arm around her shoulder, neither of them looking back.

After that, Steve never hung out with Tommy again—at least, not to Nancy’s knowledge. She’d sort of assumed the same went with the whole crowd—including Billy.

Clearly, she thinks, as she glares at Billy almost absently, she was wrong.

As if sensing her hostility, Billy rises and produces a cigarette from his pocket. He doesn’t offer one to anybody, or tell anyone where he’s going. He just disappears.

“What’s he even doing here?” Nancy leans in to Jonathan.

“Hargrove? Guess he’s just here with Max?”

“What’s Billy doing here?” Dustin says from across the waiting room, throwing subtlety completely out the window.

Max flushes, scowls defensively. “What do you mean?”

“Him and Steve hate each other, so why is he here?”

“They don’t hate each other, they’re _friends_.”

“Since _when?”_ Lucas says.

“Steve would never be friends with Billy,” Dustin says matter-of-factly.

“He knew where the spare key was,” Hopper points out, drearily. “So clearly, they must be friends.”

“They’re friends,” El says, and the first time she’s really spoken up since they’ve been here.

“How do you know that?”

“Well Steve never mentioned that to us—“

“Who cares? Steve doesn’t have to tell you _everything_ ,” Max snaps.

“Why are you suddenly so defensive?” Mike snaps back. “You’re always telling us about how much an asshole he is—“

“I am not!”

“You are!”

“Well, he is, but that doesn’t mean—“

“Steve wouldn’t—“

“How did—“

“That guy shouldn’t—“

“ _Guys_.” Hopper’s booming voice shuts them all up. All the kids shut their mouths with an audible click. “It doesn’t matter, alright? _It doesn’t matter_. Give it a rest.”

So they do. They settled back down, looking a little more peeved than they had before. Not a minute later, Billy comes sauntering back, none the wiser. Sensing the eyes on him, he glares out at everybody, and Nancy is reminded of those dogs at the shelter, the badly trained ones who keep to the corner of their wire cages, too aggressive to be adopted. She always felt a pang of sympathy for them, but fear always kept her away, for she knew that they wouldn’t hesitate to clamp their jaws around her if given the chance.

When eleven pm comes, five hours after they first came, most of them decide to leave for the night. Dustin is the most reluctant to leave (“How are we supposed to just act like everything is normal when Steve is in a _coma?”)_ , and even though Nancy gathers his hands and tells him she’ll call him first if they hear any news, he isn’t convinced. So Jonathan and Nancy tell Mrs. Henderson to go on home, insisting they’ll watch over Dustin and bring him home later if he wants. Everybody shares hugs and goodbyes, and the rest of the kids promise to come back after school tomorrow.

But as everybody drifts out of the waiting room, Billy makes no move to leave. Max is already gone. Nancy frowns at Jonathan, who only shrugs.

She doesn’t know how much time passes. There’s a clock somewhere across the waiting room, but it’s at an angle and she can’t see it properly. It feels like hours have passed, and none of have spoken. She’s actually quite impressed that Dustin has managed to stay so quiet, even though he’s probably exhausted at this hour. It’s not so strange for Billy to be quiet—he’s sitting so far from them, would be a strain to have any conversation at all, even though they’re the only ones left in this nook of the waiting room. Probably just what he wants, she thinks.

Nancy flips through some of the old magazines they have lying around, not really reading any of the articles in them. She tosses it down onto the pile with a slap.

“I’m gonna go get some more coffee. Want some, Nance?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hargrove?”

Billy starts, as if he forgot where he was. “Huh?”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I’ll have some too.”

“You’re not having coffee, Dustin,” Nancy says.

“Steve would let me have coffee.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Nancy and Billy say it at the exact same time. Their gaze flickers to each other, but Billy’s jaw is tight and his expression is hardly friendly.

Dustin begins to snore softly after a few minutes. The silence weighs heavier with Jonathan gone.

“Do you have the time?” Nancy asks.

“ _What_?”

“The time.”

“Do you _see_ a watch?”

Nancy grinds her teeth. She hates him. It’s nothing that would bother her normally, but the impertinence feels like the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Why are you even here?” She snaps. “You and Steve aren’t even friends.”

When he looks at her, his eyes are razor sharp. “I could ask you the same thing, _Princess_. Last time I checked, you’re his _ex_ girlfriend.”

Nancy huffs. “That doesn’t mean I don’t _care_ about him.”

“Well there’s your answer.”

“Oh, so what, all of a sudden you _care_ about Steve? Last time _I checked_ , beating someone’s face in doesn’t count as caring about them.”

Billy grins at her then, a terrible grin that has no humor in it at all. “Yeah? Well sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think whoring around behind his back and dumping him for the school freak counts as caring, either.”

Nancy grits her teeth. “You don’t know anything about that, so why don’t you just shut up?”

“Well you don’t know anything about _me_ , so maybe you should follow your own advice.”

Nancy ignores him. What he said stung, because it was true. What she did was wrong. Had she had her time back, she would have broken it off with Steve long ago. Maybe, she never would have gotten back together with him in the first place.

She knew all along that she loved Jonathan. But back then, after Will returned and Jonathan stopped returning her calls, she doubted he felt the same way. But Steve—Steve demonstrated his devotion to her. He cut ties with all his friends, turned his back on his title of King. He looked at her with such adoration, and he repented all the mistakes he had made. She knew Steve was good, and she knew Steve would love her the way she wanted to be loved. At the time, it was enough for her. In hindsight, she saw it for what it was—selfishness and cowardice.

Nancy wonders if what brings Billy here is the guilt. The remorse from what happened last November still heavy in his gut, a longing for some kind of amend or redemption. Maybe it still haunts him the way Nancy’s mistakes haunt her, too.

Jonathan reappears with a trey of three coffees in paper cups. He lowers the trey to Billy, who pulls out one of the coffees with a nod and grunt. But he sets it down onto the floor almost immediately, and rises.

“I need some air,” he says, producing a cigarette and sticking it between his lips. He stalks out like he’s got a vengeance.

“Everything okay?” Jonathan asks, looking after Billy.

“I just asked him why he was here. He wasn’t exactly civil.”

“Not really surprising,” Jonathan says. “So, why is he here?”

Nancy shakes her head incredulously. “I don’t know! He was so vague. He just like, turned it around on me. I just don’t get why he’s here if he’s just going to be a giant asshole to everybody. Him and Steve aren’t even _friends,”_ she repeats, and it occurs to her in a moment of clarity that she might be trying _convince herself_ \- because if Billy and Steve _are_ friends, it means Nancy really doesn’t know Steve anymore. It means _Billy Hargrove_ is a bigger part of Steve’s life than she is.

Jonathan shrugs. “I guess they must be, if he’s here. He seems pretty upset.”

“Yeah. Or maybe it’s something else—like, he feels guilty about beating Steve up or something?”

Jonathan nods, but doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “Maybe.”

“It’s just—Steve never talks about him. And I’ve never see them hang out. Wouldn’t we know if they were like, close like that?”

“You’d think. I don’t know. Maybe Steve didn’t mention it because he knows how everyone around here feels about Hargrove.”

Nancy hadn’t considered that. “I guess that makes sense.” Nancy sighs. “Do you know the time?”

“One-thirty.”

Nancy shakes her head again. She feels the tears coming, hot and urgent and running down her face before she can stop them.

“Nancy, Nancy, it’s ok,” Jonathan clutches her hand, sets down his coffee to caress her face.

“What if it’s not ok? What if he doesn’t wake up and he—“

“Shhh,” Jonathan wipes her tears. “Steve’s healthy, young, resilient. He’ll wake up.”

“It’s been _hours_. The more time passes, the less likely—“

“Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t help it, there’s nothing to do but sit here and think—“

Just then, Billy comes back, stinking like cigarettes. He slumps back down in his chair and takes a big gulp of his coffee. Nancy wipes her face and tries to get her act together. If Billy notices her tears, he doesn’t say anything.

“Hey man,” Jonathan says in a gentle, casual voice. “You sure you wanna stay all night? If you wanna get some rest or whatever—we can call if there’s any news.”

Billy nods, eyes Jonathan like he doesn’t really like him that much either, but says, “I’m fine here.”

Clearly able to take a hint, Billy rises with his coffee and strolls away from them. He sits on one of the tables at the opposite end of the waiting room, and begins picking through the magazines.

Nancy is in the midst of nodding off when an unfamiliar voice says her name.

She looks up into the face of a nurse. She is vaguely familiar, and she’s looking at Nancy in amazed recognition.

“Aren’t you Nancy Wheeler?”

Nancy searches her face, until it clicks. It’s Camille Perkins, one of her mom’s old high school friends. Her and her mother used to do a book club with a few of their other friends when Nancy was younger. Since Holly, her mother’s been a little bit too busy to commit to it. Nancy remembers Camille as a loud, gabby woman with intricate manicures and a wad of chewing gum always between her teeth. She had forgotten Camille was a nurse, forgotten about her completely.

Nancy’s in no mood to entertain polite conversation, and she keeps her responses short and to the point as Camille asks after her family and what she’s been up to. She fills Nancy in on her own daughter who’ll be starting high school next year. Nancy nods politely as she goes in depth.

“So what brings you in here, Nancy? Are you waiting?”

“My friend was in an accident. I’m just waiting…” She falters.

Camille’s face drops dramatically. “Oh! Steve Harrington, right? I should have known. Oh, you poor child. He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“We’re just friends now,” Nancy says.

Camille shakes her head. “You must be waiting for visiting hours, huh?”

Nancy nods, hoping Camille will finally take the hint and realize it’s not a great time to chat.

“Well, why don’t I take you in to see him? I’m not really supposed to, but since I know your mother, and all!”

Nancy gapes. “Really?”

“Really?” Dustin pipes in. Nancy thought he was asleep.

Camille glances at Dustin. “Just Nancy.”

Nancy stands. “Thank you, _thank you so much_ , that would mean so much to me.”

“Seriously?”

Everyone looks at Billy. He’s glaring at Nancy in disbelief. “You’re not even going out with him. If _you_ get to see him, _I_ — _we all_ should.”

“Well I’m not supposed to let _anyone_ in to see him, young man,” Camille says, her gaze disdainful on Billy. “It’s just a small favor for Mrs. Wheeler here. But maybe I shouldn’t—“

“No! Nancy should go in if she can,” Dustin interrupts, looking far too tired and too despairing for a thirteen-year-old boy. “Go in and see how he’s doing.”

Nancy hears Billy huff. “This is bullshit,” he mutters. They ignore him.

“Thank you so much, Camille,” Nancy says again.

Nancy follows Camille around the corner and down a white, florescent corridor. The scent of antiseptic grows stronger as they go, and Nancy sort of wants to throw up.

“Here he is.”

Nancy steps into the room, and Steve is a sallow, deathly little sliver on the hospital bed. He’s so pale he almost blends in with the sheets, only recognizable by the shock of dark hair. He’s got a bandage at the top of his head, angry cuts along the side of his face, and sickly yellow bruises around his eyes.

Nancy releases a shaky breath as she approaches him. She touches his hand, and it’s cool and damp and she clutches it hard enough that if he were awake he might pull it back. But he just lies limp and lifeless, and Nancy cries quietly. Camille has the decency not to try to comfort her.

Camille lets her stay for ten minutes before she says she needs to get back. She rubs Nancy’s back on the walk back to the waiting room, condoling her and wishing her and her family the best. Nancy thanks her again, and she wipes the tears away from her face before she faces the others.

“How was he?” Dustin asks.

She feels Billy’s eyes on her, probably glaring daggers into her. She ignores him.

She’s not sure what to say. She shrugs. “He looked—“ _Terrible. Lifeless. Dead._ She meets Dustin’s expectant gaze, watches it fall into sorrow. Jonathan meets her gaze steadily. Billy is unreadable when she spares him a fleeting glance.

“He looked what?” Billy snaps. “Spit it out Wheeler, Jesus Christ.”

“Hey,” Jonathan snaps, turning to Billy. “Don’t talk to her like that. We’re _all_ going through this.”

“Oh, really?” Billy says, voice dripping with sarcasm like poison off an apple. “I thought Wheeler was the only one.”

“What’s your problem, man?” Jonathan asks calmy.

Nancy doesn’t have Jonathan’s temper.

“I don’t have to put up with this,” Nancy seethes, and she storms away from them, letting the tears fall hot down her face. Jonathan comes after her, wraps her into a tight embrace. She sobs into his shoulder for some time, and his sweater is drenched where her face had been. She doesn’t want to go back, but Jonathan reminds her that Dustin is alone with Billy. They trudge back and reclaim their designated seats. Dustin looks relieved to have them back. Billy doesn’t look at them, and Nancy doesn’t look at him. She reaches for both Jonathan and Dustin’s hands and squeezes. She doesn’t know if Billy notices, and she doesn’t care.

Around three, Dustin’s snoring has become too loud and Nancy’s body is numb. Jonathan decides to bring Dustin home so he can actually get a decent sleep, and to stop home to freshen up and gather a few things.

“I can stop by your place and grab a few things, in case we’re here for a while. Do you want some homework or books to… keep your mind off everything?”

Nancy isn’t sure she could actually read anything, but she nods gratefully. “I don’t know what I would do without you here,” she says.

He plants a kiss on her forehead, holds it there. “He’s gonna be okay.”

She nods.

“I’ll be back in a little while, alright?”

“You can stay home and sleep, you know,” she says. “You don’t have to stay here all night.”

“I know that. But I want to be here for you. I mean, I want to be here for Steve, too, but I don’t want you to be here alone.”

“I know, and I’m so glad you’ve been here. But if you’re going to be driving back—maybe you should take a nap or something.”

Jonathan shakes his head. “If you’re here, I’m here. I’ll be back soon.”

She smiles. “Okay.”

Jonathan rises, and pauses in front of Billy. “Hey,” Jonathan says, voice steady. “I’m heading out to grab a few things. Can I bring you back anything?”

Billy shakes his head.

Nancy must nod off, because all of a sudden there’s a doctor standing in front of her, and Billy Hargrove is standing, looking alert.

“I just wanted to let you know that visiting hours are open.”

It’s nine o’clock already. “Oh, great!” Nancy rises unsteadily to her feet. Jonathan is nowhere to be found.

“Is Jonathan here?” She asks Billy.

He shrugs without looking at her. He looks as exhausted as she feels. “Haven’t seen him since he left.”

He must have decided to sleep after all. Nancy’s glad.

The two of them follow the doctor down the hall to Steve’s room. It’s surreal, to experience this personal, devastating and frightening moment in her life with Billy Hargrove. She wishes it could be anyone else, someone she could at least talk to, or share some feeling of unity in their shared experience, instead of someone who just wants to be an asshole.

Steve looks the same as when she had seen him earlier this morning. Withered, ashen, and lifeless. She can hear Billy’s sharp intake of breath behind her, but she doesn’t look at him. She sees him move to the foot of Steve’s bed in her periphery.

Nancy takes the seat closest to Steve, pulls it close so she can take his hand and feel the faint flutter of his pulse. Slowly, Billy takes a seat by the foot of the bed, a few seats away from her. It’s almost worse, being in here with Steve. Listening to the slow, steady beep of his heart monitor, letting her eyes follow the shape of the sickly bruises coloring his face. It’s worse, too, to be in this room alone with Billy Hargrove, where he hangs over her like a shadow. It’s harder to ignore him like this, and harder to ignore that they’re experiencing this together despite the indestructible distance between them.

She steals a quick glance at him. His eyes are on Steve, his gaze intense but slightly unfocused. His expression is so vulnerable, so soft, he suddenly looks much younger, and Nancy feels like she’s seeing something she shouldn’t be seeing. She looks away, and briefly wonders if she had been too harsh on him.

After what feels like hours of sitting in silence, watching the labored rise and fall of Steve’s chest, Nancy says: “We should talk to him.”

“I don’t think he’ll be able to hear us,” Billy says, like it’s obvious.

“He might. I once read that unconscious patients sometimes remember what people say to them. It can help them improve faster—you know, engaging their brain.” She looks at Billy.

He nods. “Go ahead.”

She look at him carefully. “Can I—I mean, could I have some privacy?”

Billy’s gaze snaps to her. He looks at her like she’s a cockroach. “Privacy? _Dream on_ , your Highness.”

“Just for a few minutes. I’d like to talk to him alone.”

Billy looks at her, really looks at her, and he looks so wholly unimpressed that she feels genuinely insulted.

“You’re fucking unbelievable. You’re really that used to getting your own way, aren’t you?”

Nancy sighs, too tired to argue. “Billy—please. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Oh, yeah, this must be real fuckin hard on you. Can’t imagine what you’re going through, _Nancy_. I guess you’re the real victim here.” Billy crosses his arms, and all that soft boyishness she’d caught only moments before is gone. Now, he’s back to all sharp edges and hard lines.

She tries to glare, but she can feel her face crumbling under his cruelty. “Why are you such an asshole? I’ve never done _anything_ to you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She doesn’t even know what to make of that. She shakes her head. “Can you please leave? I want to talk to Steve.”

“I’m not leaving. You got to see him earlier. This might be a surprise to you, but you’re not the only one who matters. You barely even talk to him, for Christ’s sake!”

“Yes I do,” she says, but it rings hollow, and the horrible feeling that she’s _wrong_ mounts inside her.

Billy quirks his eyebrow skeptically. “When was the last time you even spoke to him?”

Nancy raises her chin defiantly. “I don’t know, a few days ago?”

Billy scoffs, and his voice is like a knife. “Nice try, Wheeler. I talk to Steve almost every day, and I know you guys never talk. So don’t stand there and act like you _own him_ or some shit, alright?”

“So you guys talk almost every day, and nobody even knows your friends? What, do you guys like hang out in _secret_ or something?”

This time, Nancy’s hit a nerve, because Billy glances away.

“I guess it’s because he knows how everyone would feel if they knew you guys were friends. Kind of like how I’m feeling right now.” She regrets the harshness as soon as she says it, because she can tell that hits close to home. When he looks at her, she can practically feel how much he loathes her.

“You have no right to feel anything about who he hangs out with. You have no right to even be here.”

“As if you have any more right to be here.”

“I have more right than _you do_. You’re not his girlfriend, you’re not his friend, you’re not his anything.”

Nancy can feel her voice quivering and rising, unable to control it. “And what are you? You’re the guy that _beat the shit out of him_ —“

“That was so fucking long ago! You don’t even—“

“Oh, so I guess all is forgiven then—“

“Well all is forgiven for _you and Byers,_ right? From what I heard, Byers did the same thing to him a couple of years ago, but I don’t see you jumping to point fingers at _him_.”

“It was completely different.”

“Oh yeah, I bet it fucking was.”

“Fuck you,” Nancy spits.

“No, fuck you, bitch. You know what? Fine, take your precious private moment with him. But I get one, too.”

“Fine.”

She watches him storm out of the hospital room, pretty sure she can hear him muttering obscenities at her.

She takes a few steadying breathes to calm down. She examines Steve’s face, soft and tranquil and bloodied. She feels the fury just drain away, and what’s left is weight of pain and guilt in the pit of her stomach. She would almost rather the fury.

“I don’t know how you guys are friends,” she says to him, the first thing that comes to mind. “I guess he’s kind of the type of guy you would have been friends with, before. But I don’t think any of your friends were as bad as him—not even Tommy. I don’t know. You would know better than I would.”

She reaches for his hand, holds it tight, as if maybe it will wake him up.

“I know you always said you were an asshole back then, but I don’t think that’s true. You were always a good guy, Steve. I think you were just—I don’t know. Caught up in things that didn’t really matter. But that’s okay. That happens to everybody, you know? Even me. Steve, if you can hear me—I just hope you know that I really am sorry about everything. I know you’re probably over it now, but it still haunts me, you know? The fact that I hurt you, that I loved you and it just kind of faded away even though I didn’t want it to. Because I did love you—I loved you Steve, and I still do. I always will. You’ll always be special to me even if—we don’t talk that much or see each other all the time. ‘Cause I know that, no matter how much time passes or what happens, we’ll always have room for each other in our hearts, you know? At least, I’ll always have room for you. And I hope you’ll have room for me.”

Hot tears stream down her face, she takes a deep, shuddering breath. She reaches for his face, cool and clammy just like his hands, and she can’t remember the last time she touched his face.

“Please, Steve. Please wake up.”

She feels better after she talks to him. She wipes the fresh tears with her sleeve, certain that her face is swollen and red, but she’s past caring what Billy thinks of her. He leaves her alone for a long time, which surprises her. She steps out to give him his own time with Steve, even if she isn’t sure what he could even have to say. But maybe Billy is right. Maybe it’s none of her business.

She wanders the halls as she waits. She stops by the pay phone to call her parents, let them know she’s alright and that they’re still waiting. She finds her way to the cafeteria to get some more coffee. She’s so exhausted she almost gets lost three times.

She waits for some time before making her way back to the room, and once outside, she can hear the low reverberations of Billy’s voice.

She hovers outside the room and listens. She knows she shouldn’t listen—knows it’s a completely violation of Billy’s privacy and maybe even Steve’s. But she’s suddenly so curious to know what he’s saying, to _understand_ Billy and his friendship with Steve. No one else is here to witness her eavesdropping. She crowds in close to the doorway, and listens.

She can barely make it out, he’s speaking so softly. She carefully peaks inside. Billy is sitting in the chair by Steve’s bed, and Billy—Billy’s got Steve’s hand clutched in both of his, gripping hard, like Nancy had. She still can’t make out the words, until he says, “Fuck, what will I do?” And his voice sounds thick, as if he’s crying. Nancy feels like she definitely shouldn’t be listening. “What will I do without you, Steve? God, I fucking love you and I should have fucking told you.”

Nancy whips herself out of the doorway, heart racing.

She definitely should not have been listening. Nope.

Quietly, on wobbly feet she pads back down the hall and sits in the waiting room for another ten minutes. She sips her watery, lukewarm coffee that only tastes like cream and sugar, and considers what she just heard.

She couldn’t have heard that correctly—right?

Billy Hargrove doesn’t _love_ Steve. Before last night, she wouldn’t have even said they were acquaintances. She wonders if she misinterpreted, if maybe Billy meant he loves Steve platonically, as a friend or even a brother. But the image of Billy desperately clutching Steve’s hand, the _anguish_ so apparent in his voice even from a distance—and Nancy knows she’s only trying to kid herself.

The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense in a twisted sort of way. Nancy thinks back to Billy’s borderline obsession with Steve when he first arrived in Hawkins; the way he’d knock him down during basketball practice, the way he’d mock and goad him so relentlessly, the way he’d croon _pretty boy_ to make Steve flush. She wonders if, the whole time Billy was just pulling at Steve’s pigtails. She wonders how the fight fits into it all—if it was before Billy loved him, if it was some kind of crime of passion, if it was a response to Steve’s rejection (because Steve definitely didn’t love Billy back… right?), or something else entirely beyond Nancy’s imagination.

It puts a lot of things in a new perspective, really. Nancy reminisces, not for the first time in the last day, about Billy Hargrove’s resentment towards her.

Yes, it definitely explains a few things.

When she finally returns to Steve’s room, Billy’s chair is moved back. He doesn’t look at her when she comes in. She doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t look at him, in case he sees that she knows.

Jonathan comes later that morning, apologizing for accidentally falling asleep. He had only meant to lie down for twenty minutes, which turned into six hours.

Nancy decides to go home to shower and sleep for a couple of hours. When she returns, Billy and Jonathan are sitting right where she left them in the waiting room.

“Do you want to go home for a while?” Nancy asks Billy.

But he shakes his head.

“You don’t want to go home and get some rest or a shower or anything?”

He just shrugs. Nancy doesn’t push. She doesn’t think Billy has even called home since he’s been here, and neither of his parents has come to visit. She doesn’t dwell on that fact.

The others come to visit in the afternoon visiting hours. They bring balloons and flowers, and they gather around Steve’s bed and try to talk to him like he’s really listening. Dustin holds Steve’s hand the entire time he’s there.

Nancy notices Max talking quietly with Billy, and she remembers how defensive Max was yesterday when everyone was asking about Billy. She wonders if Max knows.

They get a call from the Harringtons that evening. One of their flights got delayed, and they won’t make it until the following afternoon.

That night, Nancy isn’t sure she can handle another restless night in the waiting room. Her and Jonathan go home to get some proper sleep. Billy stays. She offers him a soft smile before she turns to go. He looks away as if he hadn’t seen it.

The following morning at nine, Jonathan drops Nancy off at the hospital, and goes on to drive Will to school. Her body is still stiff from sitting in the same god-awful chairs for two days straight, and she can’t imagine how Billy feels. Billy hasn’t gone home once. He looks like shit.

This morning, Billy suggests they read to Steve. Jonathan had brought books, so Nancy picks out _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ and they take turns reading a couple of chapters at a time. Nancy is impressed by how well Billy reads, and she wonders if he’s a lot more intelligent than he lets on. She examines him while he reads, tries to catch any glimmer of the person hiding beneath the façade. She knows it’s there—the boy she caught a glimpse of the other day in this very room, the boy who loves Steve Harrington. Apparently, the boy who is also an eloquent reader. But he doesn’t let any cracks show.

When it’s Nancy’s turn, he steps out to get coffee. He brings them to Nancy now, too, almost like he’s beginning to tolerate her. She tries not to read too much into it.

She’s reading aloud when she glances up at Steve and he’s looking back.

She jumps. “ _Steve!_ ”

“Nancy?”

She throws the book on the floor and clings to his bed. She’s smiling so big she’s almost crying. “You’re awake! Oh my god, you’re awake!”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days! We were afraid you would—you would—How are you feeling? Let me page the nurse.” She reaches to press the big green button.

“What happened?” Steve asks, looking around. His voice is like ash, broken and dry and gritty. There’s a glass of water at his bedside already—Nancy hands it to him and he drinks fully. He coughs a little bit.

“You were in an accident. Do you remember?”

Steve nods over his glass. “I think. Bits and pieces.”

Steve looks around the waiting room, spots the balloons and flowers.

“That’s from all the kids, and Hopper and Joyce and everybody. They came to visit a lot. Especially Dustin. He stayed almost all night the first night.”

Steve smiles weakly with cracked lips. “And you?”

“I’ve barely left.”

Steve nods. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re awake.”

He swallows thickly. “Did Billy come?” The way his voice becomes more guarded gives Nancy pause.

“He’s been here the whole time. He never left once.”

Steve looks down, and Nancy wonders if she’s imagining the dampness in his eyes.

She laughs to lighten the sudden tension. “I didn’t even realize you guys were friends.”

Steve doesn’t look at her, but he’s smiling a little bit. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“Guess that shows how much about what’s going on in your life these days,” she admits. She touches his hand, like she’s done a hundred times over the past few days. She wonders if he minds.

Steve looks at her calmly. “You still know me, Nancy.” Even as he says it, they both know it’s not entirely true.

But Nancy nods. “I’m so happy you’re okay,” she says.

Steve huffs out a little laugh. He opens his mouth to speak, but then his eyes focus beyond Nancy. She looks up at Billy in the doorway.

He looks terrible. Dark circles, disheveled hair, wrinkled clothes. He stares wide-eyed at Steve, a little bleary-eyed and disbelieving like he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him.

“Hey,” Steve says, in a voice so tender Nancy feels immediately intrusive.

“You’re awake,” Billy says, stepping forward. His voice sounds gruff.

Billy approaches the bed as if in a trance. He absently sets his coffee on the side table. He watches Steve with such intensity that Nancy gets the feeling that she should probably leave.

“I’ll go see what’s taking the nurse so long,” she say. Neither boy answers. At the doorway, she turns back to look. Billy is touching Steve’s face, and Steve is smiling warm and bright.

On her way down the hall, she runs into Jonathan on his way back from dropping Will. When she delivers the happy news, Jonathan makes a move as if to hurry into the room, but Nancy places a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s give him and Billy a few minutes.”

Jonathan regards her quizzically. “Really?”

She nods, and smiles. “Let’s go make some calls.”

The Harringtons come later that morning, spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with Steve. The kids all come after school, bounding in excitedly and shedding happy tears. Billy lingers back, keeping a low profile like always, but there’s a certain lightness to him that Nancy has never seen before. She smiles at him when she catches his eye, and she might be imagining it, but she thinks one corner of his lip might twitch just a little.

After some tests, the doctors relay that everything seems to be functioning normally. However, they have to keep a close eye on him for a while in case of any delayed side effects. He’s discharged the following day, with pain medication, a cast, and instructions to take it easy for the next few week

On their last evening in the hospital, Nancy and Billy walk back to the parking garage together. Well, not together—they walk at the same time, him a few strides ahead of her, as if demonstrating his aversion to her. She’s not sure if she and Billy will ever actually do something _together_.

“Hey, Billy?”

She can tell he still doesn’t like her, but he looks loosened and sleepy now, a juxtaposition from the tense and aggressive person she’s spent the last few days with. His eyes are bloodshot and heavy with dark circles, but Nancy has never noticed just how blue they are.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and he looks at her blankly.

“For what?” He croaks. He seriously needs some sleep.

“For giving you a hard time. About being here.”

Billy shrugs, looks away. “Wouldn’t have expected anything different.”

“Billy.”

“What is it, Wheeler?”

They’re in the parking garage now, and they’re about to go their separate ways. It feels like a chapter is ending, or _something_ , and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get the chance to be alone with Billy like this again. She doesn’t know what compels her to talk to him, after how much of an asshole he was. Maybe she’s just feeling sentimental, maybe she thinks a little bit differently about Billy Hargrove now. Either way, she feels a strange pang of something like acceptance or affection—even if she can tell he doesn’t quite feel the same.

“I just wanted to say—I was wrong. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had no right to be there. Because you did. More than I did. And I’m glad—I’m glad that you were there.”

Billy looks at her for a moment, as if contemplating her words. But then he’s scowling, and he rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks, Wheeler, I’ve been totally _dying_ for your approval. Fuck you.”

She’s stunned as she watches his back retreated into the Camaro—she’d thought that maybe he had come around a little bit.

Guess not.

She doesn’t go to visit Steve at home right away—she wants to give him some time to recover and some time with his parents. She comes by after school a couple of days after he gets home. Jonathan offered to join her, but she said she wanted to see him alone. Jonathan could come the next day.

He looks better. His skin has a healthy flush, and even his bruises and cuts are healing pretty quickly. He still has broken ribs and a broken arm, so Nancy makes herself useful and gets them glasses of water and sits beside him in the living room.

It’s been a while since they’ve really sat and talked one on one like this—it might even be since before they broke up. Nancy feels a little bit of regret about that. But looking at Steve now, he’s different unfamiliar in a way, now that she’s up close and talking to him. She tries to pinpoint exactly what’s changed.

She thinks it’s the way he looks at her, and the way his features seem suddenly so light and bright. It’s the way he talks, with a little more gravity and sincerity, with a little more optimism like he doesn’t dread the future like he used to.

He’s happy, despite the bruises and broken bones. He seems easier, more sure of himself in a way he never used to be. He smiles at her warmly, as if they’ve always been friends, and he talks to her like he’s got no pain to hold back. Steve doesn’t long for Nancy anymore.

Maybe it’s the accident that inspired the change, but Nancy doesn’t think so. She noticed the gradual change, she just never bothered to stop and really see it, or to wonder why.

“Have you seen Billy?” She asks.

His expression is peculiar, before he casts his gaze away uncomfortably. “Yeah, he’s been by,” he says, all casual.

“He really seems to care about you,” she tries, watching his reaction carefully.

He flushes under her scrutiny, and Nancy touches his hand. She did it so many times in the hospital. Now, in his living room, it feels different, like she doesn’t have the right. She pulls her hand back.

He gives her a searching look from under his lashes, like he’s trying to figure something out. They’ve stepped into something delicate, and Nancy doesn’t want to break it.

“He’s a good guy,” Steve says finally, but he still studying her. “I guess you guys must have been surprised to see him there.”

Nancy nods. She chooses her words carefully. “We were. But I think he proved that he belonged.”

Steve nods. A long moment of silence passes between them. They both study each other as if trying to understand the other. She can tell he’s trying to figure out if she knows—and she wants him to know she knows, but she doesn’t want to put him on the spot, say something she can’t take back. She can tell he’s careful—but does that mean he doesn’t want her to know? Is he afraid of judgment or rejection? She hopes not. She can pretend she’s oblivious, if that’s what he wants.

She smiles at him, in a way she hopes expresses that she knows, that she understands, that she’s happy for him.

He doesn’t look at her when he speaks next. “I guess you know, then.”

“You mean, about you and Billy.”

He nods.

She laughs softly. “I sort of figured it out.”

“Did anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just because we were both with you the whole time—we spent more time together than I think either of us ever wanted,” she jokes.

His eyes skip between his hands and her face, like he’s afraid to look at her too long. “Are you freaked out or what?”

“No—“ she says too quickly. “I mean, I guess I was a little shocked. I didn’t even know you guys _talked_ to each other, let alone that you— you know.”

Steve nods, smiling. “Yeah. It took me by surprise, too. Trust me, the last person on _earth_ I thought I would be in a forbidden romance with is Billy fucking Hargrove—first of all, a guy, and second of all, a complete asshole who beat me up.”

Nancy laughs, loudly and genuinely, a little bit surprised and extremely delighted by his candor.

“He’s not an asshole, though,” Steve amends. “I mean, he _is_ , but… that’s just the only part he shows, you know?”

She nods, because she thinks she does know.

“I know you guys all hate him, so I don’t like, expect you to be happy about it or anything.”

“I am happy, though.” He looks up at her, surprised. “He clearly makes you so happy, and he was there for you when you needed it. He never left your side once. He’s _good,_ Steve, even if he’s… a little rough around the edges. Don’t worry about what everybody else thinks.”

“And what do you think?” Steve looks at her earnestly.

“I think… That he hates me.”

Steve chuckles. “He doesn’t _hate_ you.”

“Pretty sure he does.”

“Maybe,” Steve amends. “He’ll get over it.” Then, he looks at Nancy with a sudden solemnity that wipes the smile off her face.

“Nancy, you have to promise me something, though.”

“Anything.”

“You can’t tell this to anybody. It’s a secret—I mean obviously, but—nobody can know about it. I mean, it’s something we’d like to tell people ourselves, and I don’t think either of us are, you know, like ready for all that. Especially since… And Billy’s dad—he just—it’s just—“

“I know, Steve,” Nancy interrupts. “I know I can’t tell. I’ll never say anything, not even to Jonathan. Your secret is safe with me. Cross my heart.”

“Hope to die?” Steve smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing. She can’t help but smile back.

“Stick a needle in my eye.”

Steve nods, watches her appreciatively before making a face. “That swear is like, so weird and gross. What depraved sicko decided it was sticking a needle in your eye?”

As they talk as old friends would, Nancy realizes how much she’s missed Steve in the last few months. She’s happier with Jonathan than she ever was with Steve, and the weight of Steve’s heartbreak wore her down for so long, it was easier for both of them if they took a step back even if under the pretense of ‘still friends’. But as they sit together like this, her heart is full of gratitude for the boy across from her, and she thinks, she hopes, that his is full of it, too.

She leaves the Harrington house feeling lighter than she has in months. Finally, her and Steve are actually _friends_.

Due to his injuries, Steve gets out of writing his final exams. He’s claimed to be relieved not to have to stress about them, even though he’d been hoping to boost his average with them. He doesn’t attend the last couple of weeks at school, but Nancy and Jonathan visit him a couple of times a week, even during exams. Sometimes they bring the kids. Sometimes, Billy is already there. He usually rushes out the door if anyone else comes by, but sometimes, he sticks around.

No one really questions Billy’s presence after his dedication in the hospital. From what they say when Billy and Steve aren’t around, Nancy gets the sense they’re a still a little bit uneasy when Billy hangs around, but Max defending him helps a lot. Nancy defends him now, too, much to the astonishment of most of the kids. Max looks at her with gratitude, El with approval, and the rest with something like betrayal. Jonathan follows Nancy’s lead, even though she hasn’t said much to him about it. But Jonathan is perceptive enough to understand. Nancy thinks after some time, they’ll get all used to Billy, and Billy will get used to them, too. After all, they’re all kind of a package deal.

Nancy still isn’t sure how to feel about him, exactly—she may defend him to the kids, and she may be happy for Steve—but that doesn’t mean she has to _like_ Billy. He still ignores her most of the time, even rolls his eyes when she goes out of her way to be nice to him by holding open the door or smiling across the room. But he doesn’t call her ice queen or any other names anymore, and he even tells Tommy to _shut the fuck up_ one day when he makes some little comment. She offers Billy a smile, but he just turns his back like it means nothing at all.

But she keeps her smile, because even though he’s still an asshole, it’s actually quite an improvement. Even the smallest degree of _less hostile_ feels like a success, honestly. He has every right to dislike her, so it doesn’t both her like it used to, but it does make her hope that one day, maybe he won’t hate her as much.

Nancy shudders to remember how cold she was in the hospital, how she had grilled him with questions under the selfish assumption that he was not experiencing the same pain as she. But she thinks of Billy stiff and exhausted in the waiting room chairs, watching everyone cater to Nancy while the boy he loved lay unconscious a few rooms over. She thinks of how when they’re at Steve’s house, Billy will help him to his feet or make him a sandwich without having to ask, even though Steve’s healing up well and would have no trouble doing it on his own. She thinks of the expression on Steve’s face when he woke up and saw Billy standing in the door, and of how his face brightens and his eyes soften when he talks about Billy.

Billy Hargrove might still hate Nancy, but she thinks she sort of loves him.


End file.
